


fucking stripper thing i guess

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff, Human AU, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, One Shot, Stripper AU, besotted at first sight, it's really very sweet when you get down to it, quick fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29492985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: aziraphale is celebrating his birthday among friends and neighbors, peaceful as it can be with the noisy kids next door. however, when an unexpected guest mistakes aziraphale's party for the one next door, he gets a birthday gift he didn't even know he wanted.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	fucking stripper thing i guess

**Author's Note:**

> my friend gave me this idea and i wasn't too pressed for a title so I decided to just leave it as what the google doc was called. hope you enjoy!!

Aziraphale looked around at the party, gripping his solo cup a little harder than necessary. Anathema had been so gracious as to plan him a birthday gathering (and yes, it was a “gathering,” as there was no loud music, no thumping bass, no swaying bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat squished together, but rather a group of modest folks gathered to drink good wine and mingle) and, while Aziraphale was obviously grateful, he couldn’t help but take this time to reflect on his life. 

He sighed into his cup as he took a sip. Would it kill him to not get maudlin every time his birthday passes? He has a great life - in fact, this is the exact life he had always wanted for himself. Running a bookshop, living in a small and quiet town, he has a gaggle of unlikely friends, and everything is peaceful. 

Well, except for his neighbors. Two young women and a young man had moved into the cottage next to his just this past summer. They claimed to be taking a break from school and wanted to get some fresh air out in the country. That was all fine, Aziraphale knew better than to pass any judgement on students wishing to take a break from the horrors of standardized academia, but then the parties started. 

They threw them every weekend (and some weekdays). Aziraphale wasn’t even sure where the guests were coming from. Certainly Tadfield had its fair share of teenagers, but not enough for the massive blowouts the neighbors held. 

Aziraphale peeked out his front window and spotted one of the young people setting up chairs on their porch.  _ Ah, of course, right on schedule, _ Aziraphale thought to himself as he watched a few young people pour out of a car and into the house. 

“Hey, stop being an old man and come talk to everyone,” a voice came from behind him. “Next thing you know you’ll be telling them to ‘get off your lawn.’” 

Aziraphale turned toward Anathema with a harrumph. 

“Well, dear, they are actually on  _ my _ lawn-” 

“Oh my god, you turn 45 and suddenly you’re a grandpa!” Anathema exclaimed, swaying a bit on her feet. Aziraphale looked at her cup and realized she must be on her fourth one of the night. “Listen, come awayyyy from the window,” she guided him by his elbows toward Deidre and Arthur Young, “and enjoy this time to celebrate you, eh?” 

Aziraphale sighed. She was right. Aziraphale’s life was everything he wanted it to be, noisy neighbors be damned. Just as he was about to join the Young’s, he heard a knock on his door. Anathema turned to see who it was, but Aziraphale stopped her. 

“I’ll get it, it’s probably one of those kids’  _ esteemed _ guests with the wrong address,” Aziraphale grumbled. 

He waved Anathema off and turned to open the door. 

“I’m quite sorry, but you must have the incorrect house… numb...er…” Aziraphale trailed off as he got a good look at the person standing at the door. They were dressed as a police officer? At least, Aziraphale thought that’s what they were dressed like, although the outfit seemed a bit ill-fitting. 

“I got a noise complaint here about a party?” the officer said, looking over his sunglasses at Aziraphale. My, what striking eyes he had. Aziraphale noted the red hair pulled back into a low bun under the officers’ hat. He tried to recall whether or not they allow long hair in the force, let alone dyed such a rich color. 

“A-a noise complaint?” Aziraphale asked. “Sir, I do apologize, but we haven’t been making too much of a ruckus. Why, the music is barely audible.” 

The officer looked Aziraphale up and down with a sly grin. 

“Mind if I come in and take a look?” 

Aziraphale was hardly the sort of person who would deny law enforcement entry, so he stepped aside and swept his hand toward the guests, who were starting to take note of the officer’s presence. 

“Please, do mind how you go,” Aziraphale replied, trying not to sound too panicked. 

The officer stepped in and, once in the light, Aziraphale could see just how small the uniform was on him. He took note of the badge that read “Crowley” and the way the thin blue shirt clung to his back. He gulped quickly and looked away. 

“Evenin’, folks!” Officer Crowley greeted the crowd, clapping his hands together. “Now, I heard that you were all being very, very bad.” 

Anathema shot Aziraphale a look of confusion and a little bit of excitement. Aziraphale didn’t quite understand what the look was trying to say, but just as he was about to mouth “What is it?” Crowley whipped out a bluetooth speaker from the fanny pack on his waist and began blaring music. 

Anathema’s eyes widened and she began grinning, looking back and forth between Officer Crowley and Aziraphale. 

“I’m sorry, officer, what exactl-” but Aziraphale didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Officer Crowley had grabbed one of the folding chairs that had been sitting in the living room and whipped it around to the middle of the circle that the guests had formed. 

“Which one of you has been a bad boy or girl?” 

There was a beat of silence, the only sound the music coming from the speaker, before Madame Tracy, the local occult shop owner, jumped up and down and waved her hand.    


“Oh oh oh, me! I’ve been a very bad girl indeed…  _ officer _ ,” Tracy yelled, wiggling a little in place. 

_ Tracy? What is this about? Did she do something illegal? I told her keeping those plants would be no good, _ Aziraphale thought to himself as Tracy was led to the chair.  _ Is he going to interrogate her right here?  _

Aziraphale watched from the edge of the circle as Tracy sat down in the chair and braced herself. 

“Tracy, dear, what on earth are you-” 

It was just then that Officer Crowley began unbuttoning his shirt, his legs now bracketing Tracy’s so he was practically in her lap. Tracy, for her part, was squealing and asking Deidre for any ones. The crowd began to cheer him on, laughing and getting much livelier than Aziraphale has ever seen them. 

Anathema sidled up to Aziraphale amongst the commotion and began giggling. 

“Aziraphale, old pal, you could’ve given us some warning, you know,” she said, elbowing him in the side. “Didn’t take you for the type to hire a stripper, though. Are you going through a midlife crisis?” 

Aziraphale didn’t quite catch the remainder of that sentence as he watched Officer… no… not an officer - a  _ stripper _ , shuck off his shirt, leaving his black tie hanging loosely around his neck. Tracy took the opportunity to tug on the tie as the stripper undulated his hips in a way Azirapahle found, frankly, mesmerizing. 

“Sorry, a what!?” Aziraphale practically screeched. “A STRIPPER?!?” 

The party, which had gotten much louder since Offi- since  _ Crowley’s _ arrival, got very quiet suddenly. Someone switched off the music as Crowley unmounted Tracy and walked toward him. 

“Yeah, mate, you know,” Crowley waved his hands about. “The stripper for someone or another’s 23rd birthday.” 

Aziraphale felt his face heat up in annoyance. Ah, so this young man was supposed to be at Aziraphale’s neighbors house. 

“I do apologize, dear boy, but I believe you have the wrong address,” Aziraphale said, huffing. “You must be looking for next door.” 

Crowley looked around at the party-goers. Aziraphale could practically see the cogs turning in his brain, as he realized that no one there looked like someone celebrating their 23rd birthday. 

“Ah,” Crowley said, a dusting of pink crawling up from his bare chest ( _ Good Lord,  _ Aziraphale thought) and finding its way to his cheeks. “You… you might be right.” 

Aziraphale sighed, his anger draining. It wasn’t exactly this young man’s fault. Well, it was, but he was just trying to do his job. 

“I-I’m, er, that’s- hm. Well then, I... guess... Sorry for interrupting, everyone!” Crowley yelled as he gathered up his discarded shirt and the speaker. “I’ll be, ngk, I’ll be going… apologies for any confusion.” 

And with that, he dashed out the door, shirt in hand. Aziraphale stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where Crowley had just been standing. Anathema closed the door for him and clapped her hands, announcing to everyone that, while that was exciting, she had a brand new bottle of whiskey that everyone should absolutely try. 

The crowd tentatively began their previous mingling and Tracy pouted as she stood up to follow Anathema into the kitchen. 

Aziraphale clutched at his chest. That sort of excitement was something he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. He started laughing to himself, feeling a little crazy. In hindsight, it was actually sort of funny. So funny, in fact, that Aziraphale almost didn’t believe it had really happened. 

He cracked open the front door and spotted a sleek black car with a frustrated-looking redhead in the drivers’ seat. 

Nope. Definitely real, then. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a little bad for Crowley. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want him to think he was mad at him in any way. He looked back at his friends and neighbors, all chatting away in the dining room, and slipped out the door. 

“What are you doing, you idiot?” Aziraphale whispered to himself. 

He approached the car slowly and tentatively knocked on the window. Crowley startled, taking his head out of his hands and looking up at Aziraphale, who smiled shyly and waved. 

“Mind if I-?” he gestured to the passenger seat. 

Crowley gave a wobbly smile back and nodded. 

Aziraphale circled the car and waited a tick as Crowley unlocked the door for him. He got in and immediately was enveloped in a heady scent of leather and cedarwood. It smelled intoxicating. 

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” Crowley mumbled. 

“Pardon?” Aziraphale asked, trying not to track his eyes down Crowley’s still-bare chest. 

“I mean, that was… something, wasn’t it?” Crowley asked, laughing self-deprecatingly and putting his head back in his hands. “I’m sorry to ruin your, er, party.” 

Aziraphale reached out and patted Crowley’s bare, freckled shoulder, noting the heat coming off of his skin. 

“Oh, it’s- it’s nothing, dear boy,” Aziraphale stuttered. “Actually to be quite honest, I think that was probably the most exciting bit of the party. And from the looks of it, all of the guests most likely wish you had stayed.” 

Crowley chuckled. It was a deep sound that Aziraphale felt rumble through to his fingertips, still resting lightly on Crowley’s arm. 

“Oh really?” Crowley asked, turning to look up at him. He had taken the sunglasses off, giving Aziraphale a full view of those eyes he had caught a glimpse of earlier. “And what about you?” 

Aziraphale tried to gather his thoughts, which were finding themselves in quite the jumble just now. 

“What was that?” 

“I said, ‘And what about you?’” Crowley repeated. He was giving Aziraphale a very soft smile. “Do you wish I had stayed?” 

Aziraphale once again felt his face flush with heat. 

“O-ooh, I- well, I mean, uh-” 

Crowley laughed again, making Aziraphale stop his stuttering and look at him head-on. 

“Ah, you’re teasing me,” Aziraphale noted. He removed his hand from Crowley’s shoulder, chastising himself for missing the warmth. 

“M’not,” Crowley replied. “It, well, it seemed to be your party, wasn’t it, angel?” 

Aziraphale practically choked on air, having a small coughing fit at the pet name. 

“Angel?” 

Crowley smiled and began putting his shirt back on. He buttoned it up with deft fingers and Aziraphale found himself watching the movement with rapt attention. 

“Well, let’s look at the material, shall we?” Crowley said as he redid his tie. “Your party, from the signs I’m guessing your  _ birthday _ party, gets interrupted unexpectedly by a stripper, who apparently can’t read house numbers. Said stripper then takes one of your friends and begins giving her a lap dance, immediately, in the middle of this gathering that looked to be quite fancy and sophisticated, blasting Justin Timberlake… and then, after you rightfully kick the stripper out for having the wrong address and making quite a lot of assumptions, you come out here to comfort  _ him _ for crashing  _ your _ party. Did I get all that right?” 

Aziraphale looked down at his lap and fidgeted with his hands. 

“That sounds… correct,” he looked back up at Crowley, who had finished with his tie and was looking back at him. 

“See? Only an angel would care about others so much, even after they wronged them.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. 

“You didn’t wrong me, dear, it was, ah, it was actually very fun,” Aziraphale admitted. “Although, I’m sure you’d like to get to your actual gig.” 

Aziraphale gestured to his neighbor’s house, which was now alight with the glow of colored LED lights and droves of young people milling about the yard.

“Hm, you know what? Nah,” Crowley waved in the direction of the house. “I think the embarrassment of my mistake has been enough for me, tonight. I’m going to go home and pour myself a very large drink, claim that I got lost, and take my losses while I still can.” 

Aziraphale looked past Crowley, to his house. This really was a bad idea… 

“Why don’t you, uh, come inside?” Aziraphale asked, quietly. Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I mean- only, only if you want to. We’re just going to be drinking whiskey and talking about, oh I don’t know, the local PTA election. Dreadfully boring.” 

Crowley looked back at the house and then at Aziraphale. He smiled, and laid his hand over Aziraphale’s, the warmth seeping back into Aziraphale at the spot where their skin connected. 

“You know what, angel? I might just take you up on that.”    


“It’s Aziraphale.” 

Crowley’s smile grew. 

“I think I’ll stick with ‘angel,’ for now,” Crowley replied squeezing Aziraphale’s hand and moving to get out of the car. “Is that okay with you?” 

Aziraphale blushed and got out of the car, looking at Crowley over the roof. 

“I think that would be perfectly acceptable, dear.” 


End file.
